Breathless
by omens
Summary: It never should have happened. Fred should still be here, with the girl who loves him. The girl I should not be falling for. [HarryHermione, mentions of FredHermione] Post DH, AU as of OOTP.
1. Chapter 1

**Name:** Chris

**Title:** Breathless

**Genre:** Angst/Romance

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** It never should have happened. Fred should still be here, with the girl who loves him. The girl I should not be falling for. [Harry/Hermione, mentions of Fred/Hermione Post DH, AU as of OOTP.

_**Based on Livejournal's 30Breathtakes table prompt 'wind in your hair.'**_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related trademarks are property of JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers. Besides, if it were mine, then I'd be JK Rowling and I hate her a little too much right now to want to be her. :p

…0...

"_Where the hell have you been?" Harry shouted_

"_Chamber of Secrets," said Ron._

"_Chamber-what?" said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them._

"_It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Wasn't it brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn't got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!"_

"_What the-?"_

"_Something to get rid of the Horcruxes," said Ron simply._

_Harry's eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermione's arms: great curved fangs, torn, he now realized, from the skull of the basilisk._

"_But how did you get in there?" he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. "You need to speak Parseltongue!"_

"_He did!" whispered Hermione. "Show him, Ron!"_

_Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise._

"_Merlin, Ron," a voice, that turned out to be George, piped up. "Get a drink of water before you start fighting, would you?"_

"_Ha ha," Ron replied. "Where's Fred?"_

"_Yeah. Aren't you guys supposed to be setting up defenses in the hallways?" Harry asked him. _

"_We are." George shrugged. "Or we're going to. Fred remembered something he needed to do first."_

_Hermione looked up in alarm. "What?" _

_Fred popped up around the corner. "This." He spun Hermione around-she dropped one of the fangs she was holding causing Ron to grimace-and kissed her firmly._

"_Oi, enough of that," George took hold of his brother's arm and pulled him away. "There'll be time for all that later."_

_Hermione smiled a little goofily. The idea of Fred coming to find her for a kiss in the midst of battle must have seemed very romantic. Harry and Ron merely rolled their eyes._

"_Come on," Ron balanced the load in his arms and pulled Hermione by the elbow after him and Harry in the opposite direction._

_Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw a red blur and, thinking it was Ron, looked up just in time to see Fred pull Hermione to him for another quick kiss. "I forgot to tell you something," he said. "Go get 'em," he added and dashed back off around the corner._

…0...

The cold in the air, a biting nip that stole the breath, was uncharacteristic for late spring. Even in England, where the weather always leaned on the cooler side, it was considered chilly. But somehow it fit for the particular occasion.

The crowd stood solemnly in small clusters around the deep hole that would soon lodge the young man they were all mourning too deeply to say. In the center was a larger group, primarily red haired, standing around carefully arranged folding chairs. In the front four seats were George Weasley on the aisle, his sister, Ginny's, hand on his shoulder from her place behind him, Hermione Granger, one of the lone non-redheads in the group, pale and stoic, clutching the hand of the Weasley family matriarch whose other hand clasped her husband's on the other aisle.

The remaining four Weasley boys, Ginny, and assorted significant others stood silently just behind the chairs with the children making up the first row. Each of them remained silent, not even making noise with their tears, as they paid their respects to their fallen brother.

Fred Weasley was gone. Like so many of his friends, he had died in the battle to bring down the wizarding world's greatest evil, Lord Voldemort, at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a careless loss that had stunned everyone when the news touched their ears.

Harry Potter watched over his Ginny's head as the long wooden box was lowered into the ground silently by the wands of the two gray haired Wizards from the Ottery St. Catchpole Funeral Home. He had only been to three funerals in his 17 years-all in the past year. The first one he had attended, for Hogwart's Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, had been packed so tightly there was no room for any seats. With all the admiration and respect Dumbledore had earned during his long, achievement filled life, wizards and witches had come from all over the world to pay their final respects. This was in addition to the 1,000 plus Hogwarts students and staff.

The second was for Remus Lupin and his wife Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, both of whom had also died in the already battle, leaving their newborn son behind. Harry tossed a look over at his godson in his grandmother's arms. Teddy was normally a very happy baby. He giggled constantly and, taking after his mother, was a Metamorphogus, and changed the short fuzz on his head and his eyes different colors like a rainbow. That funeral had been smaller, made up of close friends and a few of Tonk's coworkers from the Ministry of Magic, and louder. It seemed like everyone there had been crying. But oddly enough, it wasn't as unexpected as Fred's. As an Auror, Tonks had put herself in danger on a daily basis-just like she did with the Order of the Phoenix. Remus had been a member as well, but many people had been expecting to hear of his untimely demise for some time due to his unfortunate fate of being a werewolf. Oh no, people at their funeral missed them, but they weren't crying for them. Not really. They were crying for little Teddy who had to grow up without his parents.

Harry's wasn't sure if the last one, or first rather, counted or not. It was more of a memorial. When Voldemort had killed Cedric Diggory almost four years earlier, the air of Hogwart's Great Hall had been filled with a stifling sadness. Everyone knew Cedric, liked him, respected him. And he had been needlessly slaughtered before he even reached his graduation. The official funeral was held at the family home before school ended so few of them got the chance to attend.

And if Cedric's didn't count, then Dobby the house elf's makeshift service in Bill Weasley's front yard certainly didn't.

There were others to come soon enough. Over fifty people had lost their lives in the ancient castle the same night as Fred, Remus, and Tonks. Many of them had been people Harry knew-the majority comprised of his friends and classmates from school. Like Colin Creevy, who had always admired Harry and stayed behind to fight despite not being old enough. But he snuck back to stand beside his hero and ended up as another senseless casualty.

The magical tossing of dirt onto Fred's coffin seemed to be the last straw for the eerily quiet service. Mrs. Weasley began sobbing loudly against her husband's chest while he whispered soothing words into her hair. As if taking her cue, many of the other guests started crying openly, not bothering to conceal their tears any longer. Harry squeezed Ginny's hand when she groped for it in front of him.

His eyes were drawn to Hermione and George. The two of them were closer to Fred than anybody; George being his twin and Hermione his girlfriend. Eyes had been drifting towards them throughout the service, more so now than ever. Harry knowing them both the way he did, it was difficult to imagine that this would be the place either of them would break down. This kind of pain was too personal to just put out there for the world to see.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the crowd starting to form into a line. Familiar faces, cloaked in grief, waiting for their turn to speak to the family gathered around the grave. That was when Harry was suddenly struck by the realization that he as considered, as an extension, a part of the Weasley family and that he'd be having people coming to him saying they were sorry the way they were to Percy and Charlie.

Oliver Wood was one of the first ones in line. Harry had long become accustomed to seeing a serious, determined, expression on the face of his former Quidditch captain. Seeing him look so somber while he clutched the hand of Katie Bell tightly in his much larger palm seemed almost normal. It was becoming a regular occurrence of late, Katie and Oliver. _'Good for them,' _ran through his head. Hopefully, some good would come out of all of this and they would finally realize just how short life was and stop dancing around each other the way they had been for as long as he'd known them.

Crouching down out of the way of the people behind him, Oliver talked in hushed tones to George. The seated man nodded silently as Oliver talked, choking out a scratchy thanks before his friend's hand clapped him on the shoulder. Katie, having stood behind Oliver while he talked, bent to give George a quick, but tight hug, before doing the same to Hermione.

Harry shook hands. He said thank you and nodded at everyone that passed by him with their condolences. He walked slowly to the grave, marked by a tall gray stone, with Ginny and wrapped an arm around her shoulder when the tears couldn't be constrained. When Ron had an attack of sobs that drew her attention he didn't know what to do, preferring to step to the back of the tight circle of the family and watch as she and his mother calmed him.

That was when he noticed Hermione.

The service had disbanded, some people had already departed, opting not to stay for the wake Mrs. Weasley had ready in the house. The family had moved closer to the plot under the old willow tree at the edge of the yard. Even George had risen from his chair and was touching his hand to the marble slab in front of him. He kept looking down at the packed earth below him as if he expected his brother to come popping out in typical Fred fashion, declaring it to be the punch line of an elaborate joke. Alicia Spinnet, George's one time date for Hogsmeade weekends at Hogwarts, came up behind him and slid her finger through his in silence.

But Hermione remained seated, statue like, not moving except for the occasional blink of her dull brown eyes. He made his way over and sat beside her in George's vacated chair. "How're you holding up?

Hermione kept looking straight ahead, the cool breeze sending her hair dancing around her tired face. She made no move to suggest she even noticed the ringlets hitting her face, keeping her hands folded resolutely in her lap. She looked, for a moment, like the prim and uptight schoolgirl he'd known her to be once upon a time. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat and she sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "It doesn't seem quite real just yet. Does that make any sense?"

He nodded. It wasn't surprising to be honest. When he had stumbled back into the Great Hall and seen the cluster of redheads at the far end of the room he had known at once what had happened, but not who until his eyes lighted on Hermione on the floor a few feet away, back against the wall, white as death. "It makes a lot of sense."

"I knew you'd understand," she whispered. Harry followed her eyes. He deduced that George had to be directly in her line of vision, one hand on Fred's tombstone and the other in Alicia's. From this vantage point the wound of George's missing ear was plainly visible, barely concealed by his copper hair. It seemed so unfair-in all too selfish way-that the two boys, who had always been so close to being exactly the same, had ended up on such different ends of the outcome.

And if it seemed unfair to Harry, he could only imagine what was running through Hermione's head. After all, Fred had been her boyfriend-the one she had been planning her future around for almost three years. Things must have seemed so off to her. She liked things a certain way-her way-and any variation was frowned upon heavily.

"Would you promise me something, Harry?"

"Course," he replied. It certainly wasn't as if she had to ask. Hermione, or Ron for that matter, cold ask him to walk through hell and get them an ice cream and he'd do it without a second thought. Just like he knew in his core they'd do for him.

"Promise me, Harry," she turned and looked straight into his eyes, the familiar determined glint he'd long associated with Hermione, "that you won't leave me. I don't think I could bear to lose anyone else."

His eyes ticked over to Hermione's parents, the only people dressed in Muggle clothes and not the traditional black wizard's robes, talking with Professor MacGonagall just feet away from the Weasleys. Until the day before, the Grangers had been in Australia, confounded by their daughter to think they were completely different people with no knowledge of who she was. Now she had them back, only for them to be on the fringes of her life. They had no clue what her life had been comprised of since she was eleven years old. Hermione was honest, but he doubted they knew all the times she' risked her life, her place at school-how many times she'd been seriously wounded. He wondered fleetingly if they even knew that they were at the funeral of the boy their daughter was in love with.

"You don't ever have to worry about that, Hermione." Harry placed his hand over her small ones-like ice from immobility- in her lap and squeezed. "I think it's safe to say you're stuck with me, and Ron, for life."

She gave him a weak smile, her eyes clouding with tear. "I hope so."

…0...


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Honestly? I totally forgot all about this story. Woops. My bad. **_

_**Based on the 30Breathtakes prompt 'You're good at what you do.'**_

…0...

_Dinner at Grimmauld Place had come to be a quiet affair. The day's rigorous cleaning left the kids too tired to talk much until after the meal was over. This was a relief of sorts to the adults; less questions about Order business was okay by them._

_Two months into the summer, the cleaning was becoming commonplace and now dinner was growing as loud and boisterous as meal times at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was caught up telling Sirius a story about a wizard in Cornwall that had bewitched his silverware to feed him only to have them escape and begin tormenting his muggle neighbors when a noisy thud emanated from upstairs, followed by some muffled exclamations and very loud giggling. _

_Eyes narrowing in thought, Mrs. Weasley scanned the heads at the table, immediately noting that she was two short. Without a word to the assembly around her table, she raced up the stairs to investigate the source of the noise. Everyone else got up to follow her._

_The twins' assigned bedroom, across the hall from the girls' room, was issuing billows of pink smoke from underneath the door. "Fred!" Hermione stormed from behind the door and then began coughing. _

_Mrs. Weasley banged the door open, standing with her hands on her hips, her most determined on her face, surveying the scene before her._

_Fred lay on the floor, covered head to toe in some form of red dust that appeared to have come from a glass jar on the desk, now cracked down the side and oozing crimson liquid that looked very much like blood. Hermione was beside him, her legs all in a tangle with his, on her stomach, and the red powder coated her entire back. Whenever they moved the outline of their shapes could be seen in red on the dark green carpet._

"_Oi, you were supposed to be watching that!" George glowered down at his brother's laughing, sputtering form in indignation._

"_Sorry. We got a little…" Fred trailed off with a sheepish look at Hermione. "distracted." _

_Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "I guess that's why Fred's shirt is inside out."_

"_Oh no," Mrs. Weasley declared. Fred and Hermione attempted to detangle themselves, each pulling and twisting in different directions that only succeeded in getting them even more hopelessly entwined. George stood behind his mother, a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "There's not going to be any hanky panky going on under this roof. I won't stand for it."_

"_Mum," Fred pleaded. "There's certainly no hanky being…pankied here. I swear."_

_Hermione was a bright, glowing pink by now as she finally managed to extract herself and stood up, futzing furiously with her disheveled clothes and refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Ginny giggled behind her mother. _

"_This," Mrs. Weasley announced, "needs to be discussed."_

…0...

"So now what?"

Harry and Ginny looked up at Ron as he talked around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. The wake was long over, only a handful of close family friends and relatives still milling around the Burrow to help out, and the three of them sat down to a late snack since eating earlier hadn't really been too appealing.

"That's disgusting, Ron," Ginny admonished and rolled her eyes while she picked at a piece of chicken on her plate.

He swallowed loudly and gulped down some water before speaking again. "Excuse me for being hungry." Ginny glared at him, but he seemed not to notice. "What I meant was; what do we do now?" The question was directed at Harry who, instinctively, knew he wasn't talking about just that night.

Shrugging, Harry pushed his own potatoes around before taking a small bite. "I don't know. McGonagall said we could come back to Hogwarts but…"

"That'd be depressing," Ron interjected. "Going to school a year after our class has graduated? Pathetic."

"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed. "We're all going to have to make up for missing a year and it's not pathetic. It wasn't exactly a choice."

"Yeah," Ron said, "but you were going to be there for another year anyway. It's not as bad for you."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Harry put a hand on her arm to stop her when he noticed Hermione walking slowly towards them. Silence fell over the table immediately.

"That's not suspicious at all," she quipped dryly. She sat down at the table beside Ron, her eyes going from face to face.

"It's nothing, Hermione," Harry assured her. "We were just talking about school." He figured that the topic might interest her. Anything book related could almost always distract Hermione from everything else going on around her.

The light in her eyes, which had been sorely lacking the past few days, seemed to dim any more. "Oh." Her voice was small, quiet, and very un-Hermione.

Setting his fork down for the first time since they'd sat down at the table, Ron gazed at Hermione in confusion, his head tilting. "Hermione, you alright?"

She nodded, eyes fixed on the table her fingers were idly running over. "Yeah. It's just…I don't think I can go back there."

Silence fell over them again, only this time it was even more uncomfortable-if that was even possible. Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Ginny cleared her throat to try and break the silence. Harry couldn't blame them. It was obvious that neither of them had thought about it before; going back into the building, the very hallway, where their brother was killed. Now it was out there and he could see it running around in both of their minds.

"So you're not going to finish school?" Harry asked. Maybe if he deflected the guilty thoughts of being back in the castle they could make it through the night without one of them breaking down again.

Hermione shrugged. Something inside of Harry screamed its head off. The idea that Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire and the brightest witch in a generation, would be so flippant about her education sent a cold chill through his body.

Perhaps he didn't get it. He'd never had the person he was in love with ripped away from him. He'd lost his parents, but he never really knew them. He lost Sirius, but was able to go on. Both had hurt, just like the loses of Hedwig and Dobby and Remus hurt, but he had been able to go on. Hermione…her heart was broken and he had no idea how much she must be hurting right then.

"That doesn't sound like the Hermione Granger I know," Ron said in a somewhat petulant voice. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at Hermione like he was outraged that she had the audacity to be something other than what he'd always seen her as.

Hermione stood abruptly, her chair flying backwards, drawing the eyes of everyone else in the house.

"Nice going, Ron," Ginny snapped and chased after her.

Ron scratched his head, a confused expression on his face. Even after 7 years of dealing with Hermione, he still managed to say the exact wrong thing to say to her in every situation. "What'd I say?"

Shaking his head, Harry rose from the table and went off in search of Hermione and Ginny, patting Ron on the shoulder as he went.

…0…

Harry knocked softly on the door of Ginny's bedroom. It was where Hermione always stayed when she was at the Burrow, so he was fairly certain she'd be in there.

Ginny opened it softly, pulling the door shut behind her as she stepped out into the hallway.

"How's Hermione?" he asked. "And what are we doing out here?"

He noticed that Ginny began shifting her weight from foot to foot, something she only did whenever she got really nervous or uncomfortable. "What?"

"Harry," she licked her lips, yet another sign of her nerves. He started to worry-even more than he had been before. "Hermione's not going back to Hogwarts."

It seemed like time stalled for a moment. Harry pictured, with some difficulty, what a year at Hogwarts without Hermione would be like. He couldn't remember a time past Halloween of their first year that he'd been without her. Even during the worst times, even when Ron wasn't speaking to him, she had always been there when he really needed her. The prospect of walking down the familiar corridors without her, of going into the Gryffindor common room and not finding her there, of never seeing her in the library again…he wasn't sure he could do it. Or even, if he wanted to do it.

"So Ron's was right; she's just not going to finish school? Just quit?"

A frown marred Ginny's face. "Hermione has a good reason to never want to set foot back in that castle again."

"You're going," he said, but it sounded like a weak argument even to himself.

"I have to." Crossing her arms over her chest, making her look eerily reminiscent of her mother. "But Professor McGonagall offered to let Hermione make up her classes by mail. Some people realize it might be hard to go back into the scene of a battle."

Harry bristled. Did she honestly think that he had no problem going back to the place where so many people-his friends-had died?

"Just…" he searched for the right words to prevent another angry retort from his girlfriend. "When Hermione feels up to it, tell her I'd like to talk to her." He left before waiting for a response, heading downstairs to talk to Professor McGonagall.

…0…


	3. Chapter 3

_**Based on the 30 Breathtakes prompt 'In the silence of the night.'**_

_**Short chapter. Apologies.**_

…0…

"_Blimey, woman," Fred grumbled. "You'll be the death of me yet."_

_Harry and Ron both fought back smiles at the sight of Hermione and Fred trying to vainly to get the other to do what they wanted. For Hermione, she wanted Fred and Lee to stop playing Exploding Snap so she could help Ron with his potions essay without his getting distracted. Fred though, he just enjoyed seeing how ruffled he could make her. _

_Ever since the year before, when Fred had discovered how easily irritated Hermione was, he had pinpointed her as his number one target. It only served to aggravate her further knowing that he was blowing off studying for his OWLS to pick on her. _

_Slamming down her quill, Hermione glared at Fred. "And exactly how is that?"_

_He grinned, propping his chin up in his hands. "By ignoring my immense comic talent. That's quite a blow for a bloke as sensitive as myself." Blue eyes twinkling mischievously, Fred let his head loll to one side while he continued to grin goofily at her. _

"_Honestly," she muttered, turning back to face Harry and Ron, but a small smile played across her lips that she refused to let the older boy see. _

…0…

Harry's perceptions had warped over time. With the things he's seen, he'd think himself mad if they hadn't. For instance, his assumption that Professor McGonagall held all the answers, just like Dumbledore. No he knows better.

When he first came to Hogwarts, never would Harry have imagined a moment when he'd lose his temper with her.

"Harry," Mrs. Tonks said in a purposely soothing voice, "I don't really think this is the time or place for this."

He deflated a little at her words and the feel of her hand resting lightly on his shoulder drove the point home. There weren't that many people still gathered at the Burrow, but the ones that had remained to 'help out' were trying much too hard to act as if they weren't interested in what was going on. Looking at Professor-no, he reminded himself-Headmaster McGonagall's face, he knew he'd over stepped himself by saying it was stupid to allow Hermione to quit school.

Directing him to a corner of the living room, she spoke in low tones to Harry so as not to be over heard. "I understand your anger, Harry. Hermione is one of the brightest students I've seen in all my years, but it's her decision."

Harry sighed. It was just all so unfair. To everyone involved. He caught sight of an old photo of Fred and Charlie hanging behind McGonagall's head. They were smiling good naturedly at the camera, both with eyes that spoke of unheeded mischief about to spring to life. Fred looked to be around twelve years old, making Charlie about seventeen. Yes, it was all so unfair.

"I know," he said. "It's just…I feel like I'm partly to blame for ruining her life."

Smiling sadly, McGonagall tipped her head closer to him and asked in an even, authoritative tone, "You don't really believe you're to blame for this, do you, Harry?"

"Partly," he admitted. "If not for me, Voldemort would never have been able to come back…to gather his army. The battle wouldn't have happened and no one would have di-"

"Stop it."

Both of them turned toward the direction on the voice to find Hermione, looking pale and angry, and more alive than Harry had seen her look in days. Her dark eyes glittered with indignation in the glow of the fire, her stance one that Harry recognized at once. It was her 'I know what's best' posture; arms folded, jaw set, and left foot set slightly more in front of her body than the other.

McGonagall looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, then over to Ron standing a few feet away, before excusing herself so they could talk.

"Hermione…" he began, but she cut him off, walking over to stand right in front of him, so close he could see every line of red in her bloodshot eyes. "Harry," her voice trembled, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, "I don't blame you, honestly I don't. I just can't bear the thought of going back in the castle again. Ever."

Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes, making her blink in rapid succession and she turned her head to the side in hopes that she wouldn't notice. He did though, and felt about an inch tall for making her cry again-she didn't need this on top of everything else she was going through.

"I'm sorry, Hermione….I know!" The thought suddenly occurred to him, causing the gloom over his face to clear momentarily. He motioned Ron over quickly, talking before he even reached the other two. "I've been thinking about moving into Grimmauld Place since, you know, I do own it and everything and Kreacher's even nice now…you guys could move in and we can all finish school together."

Ron, who hadn't looked cheery in longer than Harry could remember, light up, his face breaking into a smile and he thumped his best friend on the back. "That's a great idea, Harry. You sure you don't mind having us there?"

"Are you kidding? I don't want to rattle around that creepy old place by myself." Harry turned to Hermione, hoping to gauge her reaction to the idea. She'd taken her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it while she mulled the thought over.

"Wouldn't it be great?" Ron asked, to neither of them in particular. "On our own and everything-finally."

"I don't know…" Hermione said. "My parents want me to move back home and take a break from magic for a bit."

Jaw dropping open, Ron stared at her in something close to horror. "What? You're…you're not serious."

"Ron…" Harry tried to stop his friend from saying something that would upset Hermione like he had earlier, but he waved Harry off.

"You can't take a break from magic, Hermione, you're…you're the bloody brightest witch of your age, remember?"

If it weren't childish, Harry would've covered his ears with his hands as he was expecting Hermione to go off on Ron at any moment. Instead, the corners of her mouth quirked up. A small laugh escaped her and she grinned at Ron. "Let me think about it."

…0…


End file.
